Force of Nature
by MinionRipley
Summary: (STORY HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED TO AO3.) Sten hates traveling south. Well, except in one case. Written for a kink meme request. (F!Amell/Sten pairing.)


This story has been transferred to Archive of Our Own (AO3), but here is a short excerpt. I cannot post the full story here due to this website's policy against sexually explicit content. You can find the full story at archiveofourown dot org/works/3171236. Just replace the "dot" with a period. Thank you for reading!

**UPDATE 3/1/2016:** I'm sorry, but due to this website's policy against sexually explicit works, I will no longer be posting or updating any such stories here. Those stories - and most all of my stories in general - can be found on Archive of Our Own (AO3). The link to my AO3 profile can be found in my author profile here. Again, I'm sorry.

Force of Nature

To be Sten of the Beresaad, vanguard of the Qunari, was to be certain of himself. It was to understand his place and the world around him. It was to achieve inner peace. His role, his purpose, his very identity – they were all encoded in the teachings of the Qun and held as close as the sword in his hand. Asit tal-eb. To be Sten was, simply, to be.

It was, however, not without its _other_ benefits.

The women he met in his travels, for instance, were a benefit. A very pleasing benefit.

Even as a fresh-faced soldier, he'd not been unaware of the liaisons of his comrades on those ventures into foreign lands. Whenever they stopped to rest in a town, he could expect it as certainly as the sun rose and set – several of their troop would vanish into the streets at night, only to reappear the next morning, their vitaar smudged and smelling faintly of roses and musk. He didn't need anyone to tell him, nor did he need to hear the whispers they thought concealed, to know where they had gone.

At first he had balked. The Qun disapproved of such activities between Qunari and basra. They were gateways into temptation, into the savagery of leaving the Qun, it said.

However, he also hadn't been blind to the dry, almost cold professionalism of the tamassrans in the clinics. Rituals perfected by time and practice to sate the body's needs, like a steadfast healer at work on a wound. But inside – in some deeper part of himself – he still wanted and ached, and with each visit his disappointment only grew, as did his curiosity.

Then, on a foray into foreign territory in Seheron during his twenty-second year, he followed those few soldiers out into the night, and he learned what he had been missing.

Sometimes he wondered: Was it truly against the Qun?

In the years that followed, he did his best to push the thought from his mind, but occasionally it surfaced, swimming uneasily in his stomach. The act was such a small thing, but it was what he craved, and indeed several times the thought of it had been one of the few things pushing him across yet another battlefield. It didn't make him weak; on the contrary, he found himself able to serve the Qun better than before.

Other times that worry fell away, only to be replaced by another, perhaps greater one. It was only a matter of time before the Ben-Hassrath would notice and take him away for reeducation. They _must_ know, he thought; _everyone_ knew. A few times he wondered why they hadn't come for him long ago.

Here, with the Grey Warden who had released him from his cage what felt like a small age past, such thoughts did not bother him as much as they once had.

Initially, it simply hadn't mattered anymore. He was an exile without his blade and soul; he knew he would be executed upon sight if he went back. Then the Warden, against all odds, had somehow found and returned to him that which he thought forever lost.

But even then, with his sword recovered and his mission completed to the word, he lingered.

_I could deliver a much more satisfying answer to the Arishok's question if the Blight were ended, don't you agree?_

A convenient excuse. He knew the real reason of why he stayed.

...

(See the full story at AO3 for more!)


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